Distant Blue Eyes
by Utsukushii Kohana
Summary: Katara's a kind and mature teenage girl, and Zuko's a bitter and stoic teenage boy. All the two of them ever wanted was a simple life, but it seems like that's not going to happen...
1. Rhythm of the Rain

**Distant Blue Eyes**

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**Katara's a kind and mature teenage girl, and Zuko's a bitter and stoic teenage boy. All the two of them ever wanted was a simple life, but it seems like that's not going to happen... 

**Disclaimer:** I don't own.

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**Chapter I  
**Rhythm of the Rain**  
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"Katara?" 

She bit back an exasperated sigh and turned around to the kitchen from where the voice had called to her. To match the voice was an elderly woman, namely her grandmother, looking exactly like her future self, who was a few centimetres shorter than her and had her long greyish hair back in a neat bun. Her grandmother, Kanna, was a gorgeous woman for her old age and was still stylish as well. She was wearing a long dark violet skirt and to match she wore a rose pink blouse of which the end of the sleeves were beautifully laced. Too bad she was wearing her ancient, tarnished slippers on her feet.

"Yes, Gran-Gran?" Katara responded with her normally gentle smile, while she trudged to her grandmother who was standing before the counter in the kitchen. In her worn, wrinkled hand, she was holding a knife to chop the onions to throw in the pot later on. Tears from cutting the vegetables were streaming down her face and her nose started to run, but she wiped it with the sleeve of her modern blouse.

As she shut her cerulean eyes to increase the pleasure, Katara inhaled the tasty smell that was coming from the steaming pot placed on the furnish and which wafted her nostrils invitingly when she entered the kitchen. "Hmmm, what are you cooking, Gran-Gran. It smells delicious?" she queried curiously, whilst she grabbed a wooden spoon to fill it with the context of the pot and taste it herself.

Gran-Gran opened her mouth to reply to her granddaughter's question, but she remarked what Katara was about to do and snatched the spoon out of her hand. "No, no," she waved a menacing finger in front of Katara's face, which was twisted from cheery to startled and she shoved Katara softly out of the way of the pot, and stood in front of it herself as she added the onions to it. "You'll have to wait until tonight. It's something special that I wanted to try out and I want it to stay a surprise."

Katara resisted the urge to roll her eyes sarcastically and decided to let Kanna have her fun. "Fine, Gran-Gran. I'll wait, but—I think you need to watch out for Sokka's bloodhound nose if he wakes up. I fear that he's not as patient as us when it comes to food," she warned her grandmother, giggling at the vision of Sokka fighting to have a taste as if he would be fighting for his survival.

"If he wakes up, that is," Gran-Gran muttered to herself, but Katara caught the words and frowned sadly.

"Still pining over his break-up with Suki then?" she asked quietly. Not that she had to say it so still, but she did it out of caution in case Sokka had already woken up and heard them talking about the touchy topic. And not that she had to ask her grandmother, 'cause she already knew the answer to it perfectly well. The first nights after the dramatic break-up, he came home from wild parties all drunk, traces of vomit on his shirt and on his chin and singing extremely false and loud. Thank heavens that Gran-Gran was a deep sleeper, but she on the other hand was a light sleeper and Sokka always woke her up in the process. She would go to him to shut him up (which she succeeded at every time—which was a miracle, actually), helped him to the bathroom to clean himself up and carried him to his bedroom afterwards. She hated to see him like this and she hated herself for removing all the evidence for Gran-Gran, but she always thought her efforts was worth it all in the end, because Sokka would always thank her and hug her for helping him the next morning.

Gran-Gran nodded twice, not answering with actual words, and arbitrated on changing the subject promptly. "I need you to work in the shop today," she demanded, looking helplessly at her Katara as their eyes met. "Song called to say she couldn't come. And I'm afraid my working days are long passed."

Katara mirrored her helpless look, fighting the urge to counter, but replied almost automatically. "I guess I don't have any other option," she pointed out herself, irritation leaking in her voice. "Seeing as I don't want you to overburden yourself and seeing as Sokka is… well, you know what I mean. Sure, I'll work today."

"I'm sorry I had to ask you, honey," she apologized sincerely, but a warm smile spread on her lips and she embraced Katara tightly to thank her.

"It's okay, I understand," she spoke sympathetically and patted Gran-Gran on the shoulder reassuringly. "Well, I'm going to go to school now," she said, heading to the front door, but was stopped half-way the kitchen when her grandmother called out to her for the second time today.

"Wait! Don't you need breakfast?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow confused at her. "I made blueberry muffins."

"Oh, thanks. I'll eat one on the way over," she chirped, as she grabbed a muffin from the plate that Gran-Gran was holding up for her and she dashed out the kitchen, already biting a huge chunk out of her favourite flavoured muffin. She always loved it when Gran-Gran baked them, no-one was able to bake them as deliciously as hers—not even the finest baker in town.

She shuffled her once-white sneakers, which barely above the floor to the coat hooks in the hall-way, where she took her burgundy wool pea coat, shoved her arms into the sleeves and quickly buttoning the front with her long, nimble fingers. Then she wrapped a beige, flannel scarf around her slender neck, covering up her precious necklace. Afterwards picked up her keys of the little sepia coloured cupboard that was situated against the wall and swung one strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder as she opened the front door wide-open with her other free hand.

"Aang is already waiting outside for you!" her grandmother yelled hurriedly from inside the kitchen.

"Okay, I'll see you after school!" she yelled at her grandmother before she exited the apartment quickly, closing the door with a loud thump.

She ran down the stairs as quickly as possible, her feet stomping on the wooden texture loudly and she jumped the last three steps, landing ungracefully with one hand on the banister for support and the other outstretched next to her, waving around to search for balance. Then she headed outside, where Aang was already awaiting her on the pavement by the door of Gran-Gran's flower shop. He was casually leaning against the wall, his hood of his sweater pulled over his head and with the ear buds of his iPod stuck in his ears, his head banging softly along to the melody of whatever song he was listening to.

She noticed it was raining, but she didn't mind one bit—in fact, she liked the rain, watching the fat, glutinous, sparkling drops fall from the grey darkness of the sky and splatter on the grass, the benches and forming little pools on the pavement. She even liked (and she thought she was the alone one) how the hems of her jeans would darken its colour and get damp from being dragged in the puddles. Strangely enough, it comforted her hearing the raindrops pitter and patter, and she enjoyed watching the extremely fast rolling clouds and the deep rumbling of thunder and the crackling of lightning—though it was only raining right now.

"Hey, Aang," she greeted him, with a cheery smile plastered on his face.

Apparently, his music wasn't on so loud, as he heard her immediately and he pulled the ear buds out, smiling back at her. "Ready to go?" he asked, stuffing his precious iPod that he had gotten from her and Sokka for his birthday two weeks ago in his messenger bag. He slung his bag over his shoulder, the bottom soaking wet from lying on the concrete.

She sighed exhaustedly, sagging her shoulders. "Unfortunately… yes. I'm ready, as far as you can call it ready, to go to school."

Aang laughed loudly as they both began to trudge towards their beloved building that also went by the name of high school. "Tired?" he questioned her, peering at her and grinning wolfishly half-way.

"It's nothing," she replied snappishly, being a bit touchy, blowing the wet, chocolate-coloured bangs that were falling over her forehead and sticking to the sides of her face from the rain. She hated how her hair would get all frizzy and freakishly curly from the humidity that the rain brought with it—for the moment she even envied Aang's bald head. But she prepared herself for it, as usual she braided her long locks into her trade-mark braid that ended at her waistband.

Perhaps that was why she always figured things would stay the same. She figured she would always be the one with the badly-ironed jeans (ironing was Sokka's job after all), even ripped here and there, the tattered yet comfortable soccer shoes and her messy, long braid with locks of hair falling out. She would always be the tomboy, the one that was never pretty enough to make the boys stare, the one that solely hung out with her brother (and sometimes in the past, Suki, his girlfriend, too), Aang and Yue—nobody else at school she was friends with or even said hi to.

Frankly, she counted on Aang to remain her best friends for eternity, on Yue to remain her soul sister for life and on Sokka to be her big brother, her support, her rock in the wild ocean. She hadn't actually counted on Suki for anything—sure, she was Sokka's girlfriend for like two years and they were very close before, but ever since Sokka and her became an item, the contact between Katara and Suki just faded in thin air. Which was really odd, to say the least, because Suki did spend more and more time at her apartment, but she had clung so desperately on Sokka and only talked to him—and when he wasn't around, solely talked about him. Obviously and inevitably, the conversations between them just got lost and weren't really interesting anymore.

Being so deep in thought, Katara didn't spot the tile sticking out of the rest and she tripped over the thing. Her messenger bag, that happened to be open half-way, fell next to her side, with two books dropping out and landed on her right hand painfully.

"Damn it," she cursed under her breath, angrily.

"Nicely done, Katara," Aang teased, smiling slyly, as he bent down to pick the books up and put them safely back in her school bag. When he took two steps to the side to clear out to space around her so she could easily slung the tattered messenger bag over her left shoulder and she brushed her long braid behind her shoulder. Losing her temper quite quickly, she slammed her foot against the street light and banged her forehead against the metal texture more harshly than she intended, but she didn't have the spirit to rub the stinging red mark in the middle of her forehead.

She whipped her head around ever so slowly and death-glared at him, while she punched him roughly in the shoulder, knocking him a step backwards. Startled at her violent action, he took another step backwards cautiously, giving her a small half-smile and holding his hands up defensively. She simply ignored him while she zipped up her book bag, dropped it to the floor and then leaned with her back against the silver-greyish pole to slide down to the ground, pulled her knees under her chin, wrapped her arms around them and looked up at Aang expectantly.

He looked down at her (which was rare, since it was usually the other way around, since Aang was a couple of centimetres shorter than her—probably due to the fact that Aang was two years younger than her) and blinked once, twice. A sweet, mischievous smile spread across his face and, much to her annoyance, he kept standing. She frowned at him while slapping him on the chin, lightly this time. He heaved a short sigh and scooted down next to her on the cold, wet floor with his legs sprayed out in front of him, while he laid his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. Soothingly, he stroke her one shoulder with his thumb.

It was a very cute sight, but none of the by-passengers paid any focus on them—probably because they had their own worries.

Many at their school thought that they were a couple, because they sure acted like a lovely one, but it was pure delusion. They were friends—best of friends, in fact and only loved each other very much platonically. Though there was a time (a year ago, to be precise) that Aang had a huge—_very_ huge—crush on Katara, but he realised they would never be more than just friends, so he snapped out of it—not fully, the boy did always hope that one day, maybe, just maybe, she would return the feelings, but he was already fine with the way things were too.

He smiled, while he kissed the top of her head softly. "You want to tell me what's bothering you?" he inquired, seriously this time. He knew better than to push Katara truly over the edge when she was this irritable—it definitely wasn't a pretty sight.

Exhaling fatigued, she tilted her head up to stare into his deep grey eyes and shook her head softly, causing all the bangs to fall out of place again. "It's nothing big, really. Just the same old," she muttered, seemingly all the life and energy drained from her body Then she groaned irately, before starting her long-winded and fast rant. "Song can't make it to work today, she's sick—_again_. I want to convince Gran-Gran to fire her. I'm sorry to be so rude, but that girl just get pay checks without even earning them. I don't have to count on Sokka either, since he's still too miserable to lift a finger around the house. Gran-Gran—yeah—well, she's getting—old, you know. I don't want her to do too much that can overburden her. So I'm the only one around that can actually work tonight, but I have so much homework to do due tomorrow. Plus I've got three tests to cram tonight. This is getting way too much for me to handle."

"What about I come over tonight and help you in the shop?" he suggested, smiling widely.

Her eyes brightened and sparkled with immense joy and relief. She threw her arms around him, embracing him tightly while knocking him on entirely on the floor—barely avoiding that little puddle of water and thus barely avoiding getting entirely wet, now it was just a bit on Aang's coat—with herself on top of his chest. "Oh, Aang, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you… That will really help me out." She gave him a big, long peck on the cheek. "You truly are the greatest! What will I ever do without you?"

He grinned cockily. "Well, I don't know… Pretty much nothing," he replied tauntingly, while she rose back up to her feet and stretched out her hand, indicating that she wanted to help him get up as well. He intertwined his pale fingers with her mocha-skinned ones and she pulled him up at once, then she patted his head friendly.

"I'll have insomnia without you, that's what," she said.

At her sudden words, he frowned. "So, basically the problem is that you _are_ tired," he spoke up, coming out more as an observation than a question.

She nodded, while muttering and shrugging nonchalantly. "Basically?… Yeah."

"Hmm, I knew it from the beginning that was the problem. Man, I'm so smart, aren't I?" he laughed jokingly, while she rolled her eyes sarcastically at him.

* * *

Zuko sat quietly, almost unmovable, at the window of his room, opening his carmine curtains and pulling up the blinds half-way to view the mad running people on the street who were desperately seeking refuge from the rain. With his one knee pulled up to rest his elbow on it, his other leg swinging around freely and his head leaned back against the frame of the window for support, he just missed a bag of potato chips and a soda to enjoy the view. Despite feeling sorry for those poor people sprinting for shelter, he loved the sight—the cool dampness of the raindrops on the outer side of his window, all the little droplets rolling down, finding a way to the ground and the miraculous, see-through curtain that was the rainfall itself. Plus he just loved how the dark grey clouds would cuddle together and block any vision from the sun (even though he enjoyed the sun as well). At times like these he just wanted to be impetuous and just wander outside, letting the rain shower on him, drench him, leaving him shuddering in the cold and until the downpour would become so heavy that he, too, would have to seek a roof just like those people right now. 

He remembered that one time, when he was just six years old and when it was raining terribly and how he ran outside on the streets without his parents knowing. He remembered that he wanted to catch the rain with his bare hands because he was so infatuated with the phenomenon, but little did he know back then that the streets weren't safe for a young boy to walk around alone like he did. He remembered getting a runny nose and incredibly cold and entirely soaked from top to toe, and he got scared when he suddenly realised that he was stranded in the park with no idea how to get back home. He got so scared that he impulsively started to cry his eyes out so badly, wailing for the entire area and in the process waking up a homeless guy who was sleeping in a carton box in the bushes a little further away from him.

The hobo reeked after the disgusting stench of alcohol and cigarettes, and was completely un-shaven and unwashed—having a humungous bush of hair that he would dare to call a beard and leaving an unhealthy shade of brown skin and acne all over his cheeks, and he was wearing clothes that he probably picked up centuries ago from a garbage can—having holes and wrinkles and stains all over. He stepped up to a frightened young Zuko, slurring out words drunkenly and angrily at Zuko, who didn't know what to do. When the man grabbed Zuko roughly by the boy's collar, his father, Ozai, called out to him just in time from the other side of the grass field and saw the scenery with wide eyes. His father ran up to Zuko as fast as his legs could bear to push the homeless guy away from his son, threatening the untidy man that if he would see him in any close range of his son again, he would seriously hunt him down to the very core of the Earth to cause him some serious damage for frightening his boy. All this happened with a relieved Zuko ogling his father with great admiration and worship, while his mother, Ursa, joined the scenery (with his younger sister, Azula, tagging along dully) and would hug him tightly and kiss him endlessly, which embarrassed Zuko immensely.

It was that moment that he felt truly special to his dad—Ozai was a tough, hardcore businessman and was always away on trips to other countries for work, occasionally being at home to be with his family… which was very rare, to say it gently. Zuko always thought that his father didn't want him nor his mother or sister, since he was never at home. But when he was at home, Zuko always felt that Ozai was only there because he would feel obligated, but _that_ very moment as a young boy in the rain made him think otherwise. He saw his father in a complete different light—he didn't see him as the boogieman anymore, as a stranger he had to call 'dad', but since then he saw him as his hero, this almighty man that loved Zuko for him just because he did and not because he had to.

Later on Ozai stayed home more and more often, but much to Zuko's dismay, he didn't spend much time with him. He would barely even look at him, talk to him, even acknowledge his son's presence—no, he only had eyes for Zuko's younger sister, Azula. She was his favourite, obviously (he didn't do his best to hide that teeny tiny fact), praising her, showering her with little gifts and signs of affections (well, as far as affectionate Ozai could get—he never hugged nor kissed anybody, just a mere smile in one's direction was a sign of affection with him) and whilst he simply ignored Zuko, scowling or frowning disapprovingly at him when he failed at his attempts for doing something good in his eyes again.

Yet knowing this, Zuko always tried to gain his father's love—again and again. He just wanted his father to look at him in the same way he looked at Azula, with the same proud shimmering in his golden eyes and with an equal broad smile.

All Zuko ever wanted was someone he could play catch with, someone who could teach him to flirt with girls (something he still was too nervous to do) and someone who could teach him how to shave a beard.

All he ever wanted was a father.

But his wish had yet to come true.

"What'cha doing?" a sugary voice began to sing through the room, startling Zuko out of his deep thoughts. He recognized the false, honey voice immediately—which wasn't hard, he could recognize _that_ voice out of thousand people—and he cringed visibly, feeling a shudder running down his spine, at the sound of _her_.

He didn't avert his eyes from the window, but spoke up to her anyways. "What do you want, Azula?"

She sighed shortly. "I only asked what you're doing and right away you're already assuming I want something from you?" she said, blinking confused and holding up a hand to her chest mockingly. "Well, I am deeply insulted."

"Please," he scoffed, rolling his amber eyes to the back of his head.

"I am!" she practically barked, placing her hands on her hips sternly and knitting her eyebrows together in a thin, angry line. "I can't believe you! I just thought to myself, '_Hey, what's my big brother up to? Why don't I check on him, like siblings are supposed to?_' and this is the thanks I get?!" she hurtled out, voice cracking and paused to see his reaction. He remained apathetically, still holding his gaze out the window at the running people and then he whipped his head around slowly, scowling at her with a raised, sarcastic eyebrow. She sighed, defeated, because she knew any lie would be inadequate. "Fine, father asked me to ask you to get some red roses from the flower shop."

He frowned, inquisitively. "Isn't that the gardener's job?" he questioned, his voice seeping with sarcasm and confusion at the same time.

"Yes, it is," she replied, bobbing her head softly in affirmation. "But his son is getting married today, and normally we would have gone to the ceremony, but father had too much work on his hands. Therefore we are going to the reception just for a little while, which is in a few hours by the way so you should get ready—you know, dress properly for the occasion instead of those rags—when you get back—," she muttered tauntingly and a self-satisfied smirk dawned her lips as she was amused when Zuko looked offended. She simply continued her story. "And father wants to hand a bouquet of red roses to the bride."

"Whatever," was the only response she got and he turned around to look outside again.

Her smile drooped at once and she squinted at him, as though she was trying to read his mind, but alas failed to do so. She walked up to him and scooted right next to him by the window. Heaving a sigh, she glanced at him with worried golden eyes and laid a hand on his shoulder affectionately.

"What's the matter?" she asked, though she couldn't cover up the irritation that was leaking in her voice. Zuko didn't notice it though and pursed his lips together, thoughtfully.

"I—," he began, pausing to think how he was going to formulate this properly. "I was thinking about something. That's all."

Azula smirked slyly. "Something or _someone_?"

Raising an eyebrow confused, Zuko asked with an awkward look twisted on his face. "What do you mean by _that_?"

"Nothing, nothing," she hurtled out quickly. "It's just that—you're so alone, Zuko. I worry about you—,"

"Yeah right," he snorted obviously. Though she heard him perfectly well, she decided to ignore it and simply proceeded.

"You only spend time here in your room, or with uncle, or in the park feeding the ducks. You need to spend time with other people too… meaning not just uncle. It's not healthy."

He frowned pensively. "I don't need anybody. I'm doing okay on my own."

"As you wish," she sighed deeply. She stood up and trudged to the door. When she opened it slightly, she turned her head around to spot him still at the window and reminded him to get those red roses for their father.

"Fine, I'll go get them right away," he snarled, moving up from his seat and getting ready to head for the flower shop.

* * *

"That will be in total… twenty-four dollars and sixty-nine cents, please," she prompted, a friendly and perky smile plastered on her face. Gran-Gran had taught to always be polite to the customers, always have a cheery face and that the customer is always right. Those were the three basic rules in owning a shop. 

Gran-Gran's flower shop was amazing, even though it was pretty small, there was plenty of room to fill the whole place with various kinds of flowers. Everything was greatly organized, the flowers arranged in types and colours so that Katara and Sokka could find their way around easily. The walls were painted in cream-white, the door- and window frames were sap green and the curtains of the two big windows on each side of the glass door were a matching shade (although slightly lighter). The counter was also a dark green shade with a marble top.

Their apartment was above Gran-Gran's flower shop, so every time Katara came home from school or something else, she had to pass through the shop and it always awoke her, excited her and made her happy because of the sensational whiff from all the different flowers and plants. She loved it so much, because it brought her to an imaginary world, away from the busy city which was filled with arrogant people, though some were still nice, sky-high buildings and busy traffic—which all led to accidental bumping against someone and then getting the scolding of a life time, not being able to see the beautiful sky and to horrible stenches in the open streets, respectively.

The customer, a tall boy with raven-black, unkempt hair, a pale complexion and intense amber-coloured eyes, but with a huge, red, burnt scar across his left eye, left the money on the counter and picked up the bouquet of flowers he had chosen earlier. He held the bouquet upside down in his left hand and bowed to her before looking directly into her eyes for the first time since he walked into the shop.

Katara kept gazing into his deep, sparkling eyes, she couldn't stop and a part of her didn't want to stop either. He was perpetually intense, whether it was deliberate or accidental, but his eyes flared immensely and his thick, straight hair was a rare, natural, healthy shade of black, with strands falling onto his forehead and a smidge over his eyes. Her eyes strayed from his broad shoulders to the slope of his slim hips and she followed his long legs down to the ancient Puma sneakers on his feet, which were covered by the tattered hems of his too-long, lose-fitting but not-too-baggy and black trousers. He was wearing a very nice ensemble compromising a white long-sleeved undershirt and a dark brown tee with a worn logo across his chest in small, tan print. He smelled pretty damn good also, woodsy and spicy and comforting.

"You may keep the change, Miss," Zuko spoke with a deep, manly voice and clearly with a lisp—a cute one, though.

She snapped her head up, startled, and she felt a faint blush appearing on her cheeks for staring at him what seemed like an eternity to her, but was in reality just a couple of seconds. As if to come out of her little daze, she shook her head while she stuffed the money in the cash register.

"Thanks," she replied, presenting him her best smile, but he didn't smile back at her. He just turned around and walked through the door while the tiny bell went off the moment he opened it. She didn't even have the opportunity to initiate a small talk with him, ask him his name or even say a goodbye politely.

Suddenly, a voice piped up from behind her. "What was that about? I don't like what I just witnessed, Katara."

She turned around, spotting a wary old brother slouching against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing his navy-blue bathrobe and his hair was damp from the shower he just took.

Confused, she furrowed her brow at him. "What are you babbling about this time?" she retorted, mirroring his composure by crossing her arms defiantly over her chest and grinning cat-like. "I think you forgot to take your medication this morning, Sokka."

He ambled over to her, placing one leg over the other when he supported his weight by resting his hand on the counter, standing right next to her. She arbitrated for the better to plainly ignore him and cleaning the counter with a wet rag thoroughly so that not one stain or water drops from the ends of the flowers was left on the counter. She always did everything thoroughly, she just thought of herself as well-organized, while Aang called her a perfectionist and while Sokka just labelled her as down-right insane. Then again, she herself thought Sokka was crazy, so she didn't mind at all that he labelled her as such.

He narrowed his equal as her ocean-blue eyes. "You know perfectly well what I'm 'babbling' about! What just happened between you and that boy?"

Annoyed, she raised her eyebrows to her hairline and cast the rag back in the bucket beneath the counter. "Nothing," she answered shortly and to the point. "Absolutely nothing," she repeated herself, whispering just on an audible tone, as an attempt to convince herself as such.

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tbc**  
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**A/N:** Liked it? Hated it? Have suggestions? Tell me by leaving a review then. 

_1/9/2007_

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	2. Coincidental Reacquaintances

**Distant Blue Eyes**

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Katara's a kind and mature teenage girl, and Zuko's a bitter and stoic teenage boy. All the two of them ever wanted was a simple life, but it seems like that's not going to happen... 

**A/N:** It took me almost a year, but I finally wrote an update. I'm really sorry it took me so long, but I want this story to be written well (because it's my personal favourite). I promise from now on the updates will come faster.

**Disclaimer:**Don't own.

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**Chapter II****  
**Coincidental Reacquaintances

* * *

Katara sat back in the cafeteria chair, holding her half-finished club sandwich within her two hands. Chaos always ruled over the cafeteria during the midday-break; every clique was sitting together at one table, but due to the small tables and the vacant space, most had to squeeze through with their chairs to sit at their respective table. Students all around her were either busy cramming for tests they would have in one of their next lessons, or they were busy chatting and laughing away. 

Katara didn't really have that problem, though. Her little gang didn't need more space than provided, since there was only Aang, Sokka, Yue and herself, when in fact it should only be Sokka and herself. Aang was twelve years old and he had to sit with his friends of his own age in his part of the school building, and Yue was sixteen so she should stay at her cafeteria with the other sixteen year old students. But they never showed up at their respective cafeterias—except for Yue, who occasionally went to sit with her friends from class—and they would always join Katara and Sokka, because their years had to share a cafeteria.

She was sitting at their usual table in the furthest corner, biting a huge chunk out of her sandwich, while looking out the window absent-mindedly. Suddenly, someone poked her shoulder softly and she turned her head around to spot Yue standing behind her.

"Hey," Yue greeted her, tucking a loose strand of pure white hair behind her ear and taking a seat opposite to Katara. "I'm sorry I'm a bit late, but my stupid science teacher couldn't stop yapping about that one stupid reaction. Urgh."

Katara smiled, while rolling her eyes at her friend's semi-whining. "It's okay, Yue. I'm not mad or anything by the fact that I'm waiting, like, seven minutes for you or one of the guys to show up," she said, feigning hurt in her voice.

"Well, you should be. Though you have a temper that measures up to that one cheerleader skank in my squad, you're always way too forgiven-y," Yue blabbered casually, while gathering her lunch from her backpack. True to her character, her lunchbox was a dashing light blue shade, with faint glitters and with _Lucida handwriting_ the word 'Shining' across the top. She brought a healthy green apple and a little plastic box with fruit salad.

Katara raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Still on your diet?"

"No—," Yue wheedled, knitting her eyebrows together in one thin line. "And yes. A _tiny_ yes, though," she added quietly, incessantly poking her red tomato slice with her white plastic fork. "It's healthy food."

Heaving a sigh, Katara laid down the end of her sandwich on her aluminium paper and gazed at Yue with piercing ocean-blue eyes, while frowning confused. "Yue. You're the last person I know that needs to go on a diet."

Yue nodded, understandingly. "Maybe, but I want to stay fit and thin," she explained, adjusting the large pearls of the necklace that was hanging loosely around her slender neck so that it hung in such a way that she made it look like haute couture and not something that she had picked out at the mall on whim.

Katara envied her friend for that. She'd never really had interest in being trendy or fashionable or even pretty, but when she was around Yue, she felt grossly inferior and far, way far less pretty than she was.

Here was Yue, resplendent in her dark grey dress pants and a pale pink off-the-shoulder top and chocolate-brown, suede needle-high heel boots that matched her purse and jacket. Even all her trinkets matched fashionably together—her large pearl necklace that came above her stomach and matching earrings and bracelets. She even put on light pink eye shadow and lip gloss that was the same shade as her eye shadow, and her hair was pulled back into a neat bun. It was all done perfectly and _perfect_ was the word to describe her friend, and she couldn't help but feel a little jealous over that fact.

"Whatever you say," Katara muttered, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly and picked up her sandwich to continue eating her lunch.

Yue heaved a small sigh, pricking her fork through her tomato and bringing it to her parted lips to eat it. She chewed softly and when she swallowed the red-coloured vegetable down, she looked at Katara with a devious smirk and glint in her sky-blue eyes. "So, what's this I heard from Sokka yesterday at the flower shop?"

Katara swallowed down the last chunk of her sandwich and arched an eyebrow at Yue weirdly and confused. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Sokka said something about a guy you stared at that. Nothing special, but you know Sokka, always hallucinating when it comes to guys and his baby sister," she explained matter-of-factly.

Katara sighed, burying her face in her hands as she rested her elbows on the table. "Oh no. Like you said nothing happened, it was just some boy with a burnt scar across his left eye who came to buy some flowers. I was just fascinated by the scar and his deep golden eyes. That's all."

"Burnt scar?" Yue asked, more to herself, but it was loud enough for Katara to hear. "But that's Zuko! Why should he come to your store and buy flowers?"

"Who's Zuko?"

Yue raised a sarcastic eyebrow at her friend and squinted her cerulean blue eyes. "You don't—," she started, whispering and then leaning forward to Katara, "You don't know who Zuko is?"

"Well, apparently, I don't," Katara answered, finding it very strange why Yue was so whisper-y and looking at her all funnily like she even wasn't from this planet, "Does it really matter if I know the guy or not?"

Yue sat back, frowning pensively. "No, not really. Just the fact that his last name is Huang."

Katara's ocean blue eyes widened at once. "What—Wait—," she began to stutter, completely taken aback by Yue's words.

An amused smirk tugged at the corners of Yue's glossy lips and she leaned back in her chair, with her arms crossed in front of her stomach and she waited till Katara ended choking on her own words. Sensing that it would still take a little while, the older girl heaved a short sigh and rolled her deep blue eyes exesperatedly at her best friend.

Finally quit stumbling over her words, Katara scraped her suddenly dry throat and ran her tongue over her upper front teeth slowly as if to let the newly information sink in. She then narrowed her ocean blue eyes at Yue questioningly and shook her head slight, while asking with a whisper-y voice, "If that boy was in fact Zuko _Huang_,"she emphasized the surname clearly, "then why for Pete's sake was he buying flowers in our shop?"

"Who knows?" Yue muttered, shrugging nonchalantly and then a faint sparkle of mischief glimmered in the corners of her beautifully made-up eyes. "All I know—from Sokka, of course—that you were quite interested in the lad," she taunted, then grinned cat-like and satisfied when she observed Katara's facial expression switch from a curious one into an annoyed one.

Katara rolled her eyes to the back of her head a bit ticked off at the information Sokka had apparently been giving Yue. This was so classic and typical Sokka—she loved that he was protective of her, like an older brother was supposed to, but he sure could exaggarate from time to time. She remembers that he was already like this when he was in his second year of kindergarten and she just started her first year; if a boy was mean to her by pulling her braid or pushing her in the mud, making her cry because she became dirty and got covered completely in the wet, disgusting brown substance, he would stand up for her and make sure that boy would apologize for causing her grief. While she was very appreciative that he looked after her, it became a bit dragging too because she had to learn to stand up for herself—which she did, though—but that wasn't easy to do when he took matters into his hands every time there was a problem.

And he considered his guardian angel role more serious after they lost their parents.

She couldn't really blame him for instinctively doing that, but it was irritating her sometimes. When one boy would look at her, even if it was just for a fraction of a second, he would go ballastic and either go scream at him for having naughty thoughts or drag Katara away so that she was out of sight, because out of sight, out of mind. Which drived Katara insane, just like it was frustrating enough yesterday when he kept asking her incessantly if she fell for the stranger in the flower shop. She just answered the same thing again and again,_No, Sokka. I don't know him and will you shut your trap about it now?!_

Sighing shortly, she replied to Yue, rationally, "You know Sokka and his sometimes weird imagination. I don't know this Zuko guy, so how could I be interested in him?" She scrunched up her nose, while she shook her head as though the mere thought was crazy.

"Of course," Yue said, grinning, "How can you be interested in Zuko, when you have been crushing on popular, bad boy Jet for God knows how long again?"

While she spat out her drink back into her bottle, startled at the sudden comment of her friend, a furious, red blush crept on her cheeks and she began to stammer, stupidly. "Wh—Wh—What?!" she exclaimed, flushing immensely and simply gaped at the amused older girl, whose grin only grew. Trying to regain her cool composure, Katara closed her mouth, by pressing her lips in a thin line and putting the cap back on her bottle of still water, not sending one glance at Yue. "Whatever you say," she replied, lamely and rose up from her seat before stuffing the plastic bottle back in her messenger back and slinging it across her one shoulder, "I have to go to the library now. I need to pick up a book that I have to read for English class."

"Okay," Yue said, gleefully and munched on one of her little tomatoes again, "Run away from the topic all you want, you know you can't escape it forever."

Katara didn't bother to remand something back at her, to get revenge for embarrassing her so and simply walked out of the cafetaria without uttering any more words.

* * *

Pursing his lips together to start whistle a bright tune as a way to entertain himself even just for a tad, his amber-coloured eyes moved through the organized books on the shelves, each time stopping at a book to read the title carefully—he sure didn't want to skip one, because he had been desperately searching for this one book for over fifteen minutes now and he certainly didn't want to start all over again. He knew that the book must be in the school library; he remembered reading it three years ago for his English class, so it had to be here somewhere between all those other books. And he knew that his father didn't had it lying around at his own private little library at home, between all his old, dusty books that was crinkled here and there. 

Reflecting on his father's books, Zuko felt the corner of his lips twist upwards into a secret smile. He rather enjoyed those old, dusty books more than these new, flawless books in the school library. They had that sense of importance and uniqueness more; because they had that lovely, rare whiff that those ancient books get and they still had their original covers, instead of those new covers that mostly had the film poster on them and since they were so ruffled and wrinkled or even ripped on some pages, he got the feeling that many people had had their hands on the books and read them with the same passion as he did.

Oh how he loved reading books. Zuko just adored escaping in those fantasy worlds the authors had written out in the stories; he sometimes let his mind wander away and transferred himself in the book he was currently reading as the main character. That way he was truly letting himself carried away in the adventures, the love, the friendship and the courage the main character was undergoing; all because secretly Zuko envied it all. He desired to have the courage the character had, to be able to speak what was truly on his mind and not just being so obedient to his father and sister all the time. He desired to experience such adventures, because he considered his life as the most dull one out there since nothing exciting ever happened to him. But he mostly desired the love and friendship from the stories he read; he knew he could be so anti-social to everyone who came close to him and only could be truly himself around his uncle, but he just wanted some company and not be alone every single second of every day.

Suddenly Zuko's trail of thought was interrupted abruptly when he heard someone shriek silently from around the corner of the bookcase he was standing by and definitely could make out that the voice was from a young girl.

"It's already lent by somebody?"

"I'm sorry, Miss," the middle-aged librarian replied, sympathetically, "You'll have to come back for it in a week."

"Okay then. Thanks anyways," she said, her voice pained but managed to make it sound a bit cheerfully nonetheless.

With a hand around the corner of the sepia-coloured wooden bookcase, Zuko peeked his head around to look at the scenery, because it was as though the soft voice beckoned him, made him so curious to find out to whom it belonged to, even though it came slightly familiar to him. He saw the librarian with his little round-glassed glasses on the tip of his turnip-nose gazing at the girl and saw how his shoulders moved up and down as the man heaved a sigh before channelling his focus back on his computer screen. Then he noticed how the girl unwrapped her nimble fingers from the counter and hung her head down sadly, shaking it gently and causing that long, chocolate braid waggle from side to side in a smooth rhythm. She whirled around swiftly to probably exit the library, but Zuko observed how instead of leaving towards the door like he assumed she would, headed towards his direction and he nervously tried to scurry away, but in the heat of his clumsiness, he slipped over the little stool that was placed beside him the whole time and fell flat on his face in front of her.

As the cerulean eyes of the girl widened, she gasped at the male teenager lying on the floor with his face down in the carpet and she crouched down beside him at once. "Are you okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned as she gripped his arms to help him get up on his feet again.

He held his left hand against his forehead, covering up his burnt scar absent-mindedly whilst rubbing the soar place tenderly and closing his eyes, while he answered, moaning a smidge in the meantime, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? That was a pretty nasty fall you made there," she commented and couldn't help but let a soft, sweet giggle escape her lips at the previous sight.

He fluttered his eyes open half-way and ran his hand through his ruffled black hair till it rested in the crook where his head met his neck, standing up slowly but steadily. "I'm glad it amuses you," he muttered, bitterly and then they both looked at each other directly into each other's eyes, ocean-blue clashing against sun-golden, gasping surprised when they recognized the other instantly. "I know you. You're the flower shop girl from yesterday," he whispered barely audible, but she caught the words and let go of his arms at once, flushing pink unwillingly.

"I have a name, though," she shot back, slightly disappointed by the way he was adressing her and crossed her arms in front of her stomach defiantly, glaring at him through narrowed cerulean slits and an eyebrow raised skeptically.

His startled face twisted into an apologetic and regretfully expression. "I'm sorry."

She gave a quick, nonchalant shrug, trying to come across carelessly about the whole ordeal, but he saw through the little act and felt guilt wash over him more. Swallowing the nervous lump away from his throat, he bended to pick up the stool he knocked over and placed it underneath the table next to them so that no one else would trip over the wooden piece of furniture—it also gave him a bit of excuse to not look at her frustrated exposure, because he really couldn't stand watching it.

Exhaling sharply, she scratched the side of her nose once before averting her eyes to her feet, one of which were sweeping across the floor tho and fro, and clasped her hands behind her back bashfully. "It's okay, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that," she spoke up, the blush on her cheeks increasing by the second, "You can't know my name since I haven't told you it yet." She then extended her hand out to him, ready for a decent nice-to-meet-you handshake and a warm smile plastered on her soft, delicate features. "I'm Katara Jourdain."

His gaze got cast back at her and he wrapped his calloused hand around her slender fingers, shaking her hand properly. "Zuko Huang." He smirked, relishing her hand after the introduction, reluctantly though because he seemed to miss the touch of her soft, smooth skin against his afterwards. He turned himself around so that his back rested against the bookcase and so that he didn't have to face her anymore because he felt for some odd reason a bit uncomfortable around her—_good_ uncomfortable, though, he decided. "I overheard you looking for a book?" he said, coming out more as a question.

"Yes," she replied, peering sweetly at him, "I was looking for _A Tale of Two Cities_."

"Really? I was looking for that one as well."

A wry, sympathetic smile was upturned on her lips. "Sorry, someone else already took it home apparently," she said, brushing her bangs away from her face with the back of her hand and then rolling her gorgeous blue eyes, "Annoying though, because I have to read it for English class."

"Let me guess," he murmured, tapping his index finger against his chin pensively and then pointed it at her as he remembered it, "For Mrs. Legrand's class?"

"That's right! How do you know that?" Katara asked, her eyes glimmering with adoration.

He ran his fingers through his perpetually messy black hair, wearing a smug grin. "Because I had to read it for her class too three years ago," he answered matter-of-factly.

She giggled, wiggling the strap of her messenger bag. "I see. But why are you seeking it then?"

"Because I love the book and it's the only one book of _Dickens_ my father doesn't own in his gigantic home library. When do you have to finish reading it?"

"In two weeks," she responded, gloomly, as a murky frown wrinkled her bow.

"Hmm," Zuko hummed, "Maybe my uncle has it, though. I can ask him if you could borrow it for a while if you want me to," Zuko said staunchly, offering a winning smile, and Katara nodded, surpressing the urge to hug him as a thank you and jumping up and down excitedly.

"That would be great," she said instead, gleefully, "My number is in the pages."

"Okay, I'll call you once I know something more," he reassured, winking.

She then looked at the clock hanging on the wall behind him and noticed break would be over in five minutes, making her groan with dismay. "Shoot, I have to go now," she told, scrunching up her nose to indicate she didn't really want to and that it was an obligation, "I have maths class now by Mr. Harrison and he—,"

"Doesn't tolerate tardiness," Zuko completed her sentence for her, smirking, "I know."

"It was nice talking to you. I hope I'll see you around," she said, waving him goodbye.

He waved back at her as he watched her scurry away hurriedly in order to make it to class in time. Then he turned around to find another book that would satisfy him as he recalled back at the little moment between them and the long braid, the sparkling eyes, the gentle smile; even though he barely knew her, she left quite an impression on him and he secretly hoped they would meet again.

* * *

Katara tapped her pencil on her notebook annoyed, while she could barely support her head by cupping her chin with her hand and with her elbow resting on her desk. She had the feeling she could fall asleep any second now as she stared wide-eyed (as an attempt to prevent her eye-lids from drooping) at the equation in her notes that she had copied from the blackboard a bit earlier. The answer space was left unfilled, but she didn't want to solve it as she didn't care less to make any effort and as she didn't even know how to begin with it in the first place. How she hated maths—she really did. She much rather spent her time on languages, such as English (her native tongue, actually), French, Spanish, a few words Japanese and even Dutch. She impressed everyone with the latter. Science was also one of her favourite subjects in school—she especially loved the practice, mixing all those chemicals together, adding a pinch of this substance to that substance and have a whole new recipe. But maths… no, that was the most obnoxious subject according to her, marking it on the bottom on her list of favourites. 

Apparently she was so deep in her train of thoughts that the teacher, Mr. Harrison, had written a new equation on the black board already. But she couldn't care less—normally, she would pay attention, even though she hated it with every fibre in her being, but today she didn't feel like listening (intently or not) and she swept her gaze outside the window next to her.

The baby-blue sky wasn't tainted with a single white or light grey cloud and the sun was shining immensely, casting its yellow-orange rays to the Earth, illuminating everything brightly. A soft spring breeze rustled against the branches of the trees in the courtyard, lowering the high temperature from the warm sun a couple degrees, making it bearable for spring. Spring was obviously blossoming, because in the background the birds chirped, while flying in packs back here from their hiding place from the winter and all the flowers grew open and changed in their usually perky, bright colours. Katara just loved the season alters, especially when winter turned into spring or when summer turned into fall, because the changes were so easy to see then.

"Katara?"

No response.

"Katara!"

She jumped up startled at the calling of her name, blinking out of her reverie briskly.

"Huh? Wha?" she managed to utter out, when she scanned the classroom, watching everyone stare at her with raised eyebrows or disdainful frowns (mostly from the students who adored maths), until she spotted Mr. Harrison in front of her desk, tapping his foot irritated and his rough hands on his broad hips.

He pointed his hairy finger to her unsolved equations in her notebook—or the absence of the already three equations that were scribbled down on the black board. "I want you to make these tonight as extra homework and I want you to hand them over first thing in the morning when you arrive at school. Capiche?" he practically barked at her as he trudged back to the front of the class, with a death-glare thrown in her direction once he stopped in his tracks.

She heaved a sigh, slouching in her chair. "Yes, sir," she whispered softly, but she knew he could hear her anyways.

Contently, Mr. Harrison smiled half-way and simply continued his lesson, with the exception this time that Katara paid attention, she really didn't need more homework tonight as it is. She'd rather work in the flower shop for once, hoping that perhaps Zuko would swing by again.

* * *

tbc

* * *

**A/N:** I couldn't resist making her a language freak because I'm one too. (And I couldn't leave out my own native tongue: Dutch.) 

Reviews make me happy! ;)

_8/12/2007  
_

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